


Pretzelbodylogic

by noos



Series: Sunny Drabbles [5]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, No excuse, as always, erm, i don't even, marco teaches mario to bake!, more like tries to, promptfill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4854116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noos/pseuds/noos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco's emptying the bags he brought along with him when Mario finally makes it there, the kitchen island littered with all sorts of items from flour packs and vanilla bottles to kitchen utensils like that rubbery flat thing people use to... yeah, he doesn't actually know that they use it for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretzelbodylogic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acciothirteen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciothirteen/gifts).



> Okay, so, the amazing Fira (acciothirteen) threw this prompt at me "Marco teaching mario how to cook/bake." And yeah, I realized after I wrote this that it's more a Marco plans to do it than a Marco does it, but I'm still gonna be tacky enough to pretend that it's an answer to the prompt. Seriously, dude, stop throwing these prompts at me and send them to someone talented enough to know what to do with them. *whispers* I hope you like it anyway. 
> 
> Title from the Prince song. I'm not even kidding, there is a legitimate song with this title.
> 
> PS: Just a head's up, some things in this would make alot more sense if you've read at least the first chapter of Everyone Is Leaving (I'm Still With You)

"What the fuck are you doing here?"  
  
Marco only raises his eyebrows at Mario with a grin on his face as he makes his way inside his house with what looks like two giant grocery bags.  
  
And okay, Mario's not an ungrateful dick, but he just got off the phone with Marco less than an hour ago, and as far as he knew, he was getting ready for Dortmund's game against Ingolstadt the next day. Only, that's apparently not true because Marco just barged into Mario's apartment like it was the most normal thing, taking a second to go over to the living room where Mario's sprawled out on the couch and kiss him chastely before making his way to the kitchen.   
  
"It's good to see you too, Sunny," Marco hollers from the kitchen and Mario finally manages to pause the Game of Thrones episode he's currently re-watching and get himself off the couch.  
  
He checks himself in the mirror on the way to the kitchen, just to get some sort of idea of his current physical state. He's wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, his hair all over the place and one of his cheeks flushing abnormally from being pressed to a couch cushion for so long.  
  
"He's seen me in worse," Mario mutters to himself, tugging at his hair futilely for a moment before shrugging at this reflection and following his boyfriend into the kitchen. For someone who hasn't moved off the couch in over 2 hours, he looks rather decent.  
  
Marco's emptying the bags he brought along with him when he finally makes it there, the kitchen island littered with all sorts of items from flour packs and vanilla bottles to kitchen utensils like that rubbery flat thing people use to... yeah, he doesn't actually know that they use it for.  
  
"Okay," Mario starts, clearing his throat at his boyfriend and eyeing his counter top before deciding that it's not the most unusual thing Marco's done and moving over to where he's currently fishing things out of the second bag. Mario waits for him to re-emerge before he covers his hands for a moment, removing the carton of eggs and placing it on the counter. Marco's attention is on Mario after that, and the latter takes the opportunity to smile at him before wrapping his arms around his neck and standing on the tip of his toes to kiss him properly. Marco looks like he's about to object for only a second, but then Mario's lips on his effectively shut him up, and he wraps his arms around Mario's waist instead, so tight that he nearly lifts him off the ground. "Not that I'm not very, very happy you're here," Mario mutters against his lips, smiling into the kiss and trying not to squirm when Marco's fingers tickle his lower back, "but what are you doing here?"  
  
"Well," Marco starts, popping his lips and pulling away from him, leaning his weight against the counter and moving one of his hands to try and tame that wild mop Mario calls hair, "I happen to have stumbled upon that poor attempt at baking that you thought would be a good idea to share with the world," he explains and Mario scoffs as he pulls away a little to peer up at him, "and decided I might as well come and teach you how to do this properly before you embarrass yourself some more."  
  
"I am not embarrassing myself," Mario objects, letting out an undignified scoff. "I made a perfectly tasty cake. And, I even sang while doing that!"

"Yes, I can admit that was hella cute," Marco nods, squinting lopsidedly at Mario and smiling affectionately. "I would've called to ask you out then and there if we weren't already together," he admits, and Mario softens a little, his front teeth making an appearance. "And if you didn't look like a mad scientist the rest of the time. You clearly don't know how to bake."

"I do know how to bake," Mario argues, frowning and staring his boyfriend down.

"Is that 250 grams?" Marco mimics Mario's voice, weighing some invisible bowl in the air and Mario just crosses his arms against his chest, squinting unpleasantly at him.

"How about you just admit that you missed me and needed an excuse to come see me."  
  
"Under any other circumstance, that would be true," Marco concedes, trailing one of his hands down Mario's side and pulling him a little closer to leave a wet kiss against his collarbone. "But," he continues as he pulls away, "your culinary inadequacy is all there is to it this time. I can't be associated with you if you're gonna butcher the sacred art of cooking. You even ruined my goulash, Sunny. I gotta teach you how to do this properly."  
  
Even Marco's fingers weaving through his hair can't keep Mario from getting offended, and he pulls back a little more, throwing Marco his most bemused face and scowling even worse when Marco chuckles in front of him.

"What goulash? What are you talking about?" Mario asks.

"That goulash you made me when you asked me over for dinner and I pretended I thought you were inviting me to a party." _Oh, fuck. Guilty._ "Don't think I didn't see the remnants of my burnt goulash in your trashcan."  
  
"Serves you fucking right for acting like a dumbass when I was trying to be romantic. And I'll have you know, there was some perfectly edible goulash waiting for you if you'd pulled your head out of your ass and showed up to the date alone like you were supposed to," Mario grumbles, the memory of that embarrassing night something he'd soon like to forget. "So if you came all the way from Dortmund to insult my cooking skills, then you can go right back," he shoots at him, grabbing a small packet of what looks suspiciously like sprinkles and throwing it back in one of the bags.

"Ingolstadt, actually," Marco shrugs, digging through the bag and throwing the sprinkles packet back on the island. "Less of a commute."

"Enjoy your trip back, then," Mario says without missing a beat, throwing Marco a mocking smile before turning to walk away from him.

He's barely made it two steps when he feels a set of strong arms wrap around his waist, and he barely keeps his balance as he's being pulled back, his back suddenly curved against Marco's chest. He squirms a little in his boyfriend's grip, but can only smile to himself when Marco's lips trail down to his ear, sucking a little right below his lobe before moving a little higher.

"You can leave if you want to," Marco whispers, pulling his arms tighter around Mario, and fuck, Mario's missed him so much. "But I was planning on teaching you how to make pretzels."

Mario can't even stop the gasp that escapes him if he tries. He shuffles in Marco's hold for a minute, turning in his arms until he's facing him, eyes wide with wonder and lips parted. "You know how to make pretzels?"

"I do," Marco says, nodding his head slightly with a lopsided smirk. "The dough is really easy to make, too," he continues. "It needs to rest for a while before we can bake it in the oven, but I can think of a few things we can do to occupy ourselves," he whispers, his voice a little too low as he moves his hands down from Mario's lower back, spreading his fingers and splaying his palms over Mario's ass.

"Oh, yeah?" Mario manages to let out.

His voice is shaking phenomenally, but he's got a really good reason, okay? Is he really expected to keep his composure when he's being offered pretzels and Marco and pretzels-and-Marco together? Who has that kind of self-control? Besides, if Marco isn't aware of how down Mario is with this plan, then there's something that's definitely wrong with him, because Mario's erection is pressing in outstanding fashion against his thigh right now. And judging by that bulge against Mario's stomach, it's very much mutual.

"Yeah," Marco promises, nodding his head and leaning closer, his lips inches from Mario's.

Mario closes the distance, sucking on Marco's lower lip and swirling his tongue a little, before pulling away rather abruptly, pecking Marco lightly on his mouth and pushing his body away from his boyfriend's.

"Let's make pretzels!" he cries out, enjoying Marco's horrified expression a little too much. And yeah, okay, he might be horny and hungry and horny as fuck, but two can play at that game.

"Sunnyyy," Marco groans, cupping himself over his pants and pinching his nose.

"You drove for an hour to teach me how to bake," Mario says, raising his eyebrows. "We can't have anything ruin that," he adds, smiling innocently at Marco. "Dough first, sex later. Now stop touching yourself and go wash your hands," he adds, fishing out some baking powder out of those grocery bags. "We've got some baking to do!"


End file.
